Book Review: The Last Wild Horses

"When is a species extinct?  When not a single live specimen is to be found?  For when the last free specimen has disappeared?"

Dogs came to us through the domestication of the wolf.  Pigs came to us through the domestication of the wild boar.  The chicken is descended from the red jungle fowl, the sheep from the mouflon.  But what of the horse?  The domestic horse is the domesticated descendent of the tarpan, the wild horse of the European steppes and forests.  If you haven't heard of it, it's probably for the simple reason that it is extinct, and has been for over a century (despite some efforts of questionable biological principles to bring the species back to life).

The tarpan wasn't the very last of the true wild horses on the face of the earth.  In the 1880's, a Russian cavalry officer and geographer named Nikolai Przewalski discovered a population of true wild horses roaming the steppes of Mongolia.  The species (or subspecies, depending on one's taxonomic preference) is sometimes known by its native Mongolian name, takhi.  Most often, it is known as Przewalski's wild horse (because that name is a challenge for many English speakers, I usually hear it referred to as Asian wild horse, or simply "P. horse)."

In The Last Wild Horses, Norwegian author Maja Lunde tells the story of the horse through the eyes of three generations throughout history, moving back and forth between them.  First, we experience the horses through the eyes of a Russian zoo official.  Almost as soon as he is made aware of the animal's existence, a quiet bureaucrat is pushed wildly out of his comfort zone when he finds himself on an expedition to Mongolia to bring back the first wild horses for his zoo.  He is accompanied by a character who is so obviously a stand-in for the famous German animal dealer Carl Hagenbeck that for a while, I was really confused as to why they didn't just use Hagenbeck himself (not giving anything away, but about halfway through the narrative, I was like... Oh.  That's why).    Lunde does not gloss over the hardships that animals experienced during these expeditions - so fair warning, some parts of these sections will be sad.

Then, we move to almost-present, when a German veterinarian is trying to escape the demons of her past (and manage her relationship with her drug-addicted son) by returning the wild horse to the plains of Mongolia.  When I was a child, the species had been driven completely to extinction in the wild, with the only specimens remaining in zoos.  Lunde offers a fictionalized version of the reintroduction of the takhi to Mongolia.  (I especially appreciated the reminiscences of wild horses on the estate of Nazi leader Herman Goring during World War II, acknowledging the role that these horses played in the Nazi's obsession with breeding back "Germanic" animals).  Her account begins, rather than ends, with the moment that the crates are opened and the horses thunder out.  Instead, she does a remarkable job of telling of the interplay of heartache, triumph, despair, and hope that characterize any conservation project, especially one that seeks to restore a species to a habitat from which it has been absent for a century.

Lastly, we skip ahead to the dystopian near future (this book is a part of a series written by Lunde called "The Climate Quartet," though it reads fine on its own - I hadn't read any of the others yet).  Climate change, extinctions, and political instability have caused the gradual collapse of our civilization, with much of Europe being essentially a continent or vagabonds and refugees.  Amidst the bleakness, a mother-and-daughter, last remnants of a family of Norwegian zookeepers, try to tend to the tiny remnant of animals on their farm - including Przewalski's horses to secure their future, even as they themselves look starvation in the eye.  

Lunde's writing (or the English translation of it, at any rate) is compelling and engaging, and I'll give her the benefit of the doubt that the few scientific errors (such as referring to horses as ruminants) are not of her doing.  I feel like there is a perspective that we are missing which would have made the story a better, more complete one, though - a Mongolian perspective.  Although we meet Mongolian herdsmen who assist our pseudo-Hagenbeck and his bumbling sidekick in their attempts to capture wild horses, as well as a later generation of Mongolian biologists who help guide the reintroduction program - we never are given their stories.  I would have enjoyed a set of chapters told by a character of their culture. especially to see what the horses meant to these equestrian nomads in the years before Przewalski made the scene. 

The Last Wild Horses at Amazon.com

From the News: New Sacramento Zoo

Plans for Zoo in Elk Grove Advance

Every once in a while, a decent-sized US zoo suggests that it may relocate and start fresh somewhere else.  This never seems to actually lead anywhere, and they almost invariably stay put.  Sacramento looks like it may change that.  The zoo is looking to relocate to a new location in Elk Grove, and things are looking increasingly serious.  Will they?  I hope so.  A chance to build a new zoo, unencumbered by past architecture and design, is an extremely exciting prospect

A Message From Ukraine

Shared by the Denver Zoo, the following is a response from Director Kyrylo Trantin of the Kyiv Zoo, thanking the people of Denver for their contributions, which have been vital is providing necessities for the animals impacted by this war.

Have a Nice Day

"But you saw for yourself!" Kingsbury cried.  "Another five years, goddamn, I'll be bigger than Disney."

Lou looked doubtful.  "I wasn't gonna say anything, but what the hell... but the park's got a long ways to go.  It's the bathrooms.  The Port Authority's got cleaner bathrooms... and it wouldn't hurt to keep an extra roll of toilet paper in the stalls."

"Is that it?  That's your big gripe?"

Lou said, "People notice them things, they really do."  Then he stepped toward Francis X. Kingsbury and raised the pistol.

- Carl Hiaasen, Native Tongue

Every zoo or aquarium employee should want their facility to be one that they can take pride in.  That means, above all else, providing the best possible animal welfare.  It also means making a meaningful contribution to conservation, and providing an experience in which guests of all ages can satisfy their curiosity and learn about the natural world.  All of this, of course, is contingent on guests coming in the gate and giving you money.  And they're only going to do that more than once if they have a good time.

Every once in a while, it's a good idea to leave your lurking place in the shadows behind-the-scenes and (especially if you are someone who is actually in a position to make decisions), walk through the zoo or aquarium as a visitor would.  See the place through their eyes.  And see the parts of it that you might not always look at (i.e., the parts that aren't animals).

Don't just ask yourself if it's a "good" zoo.  Ask, is it a nice place to visit?

Is it easy to find your way around?  Sure, you may know the zoo like the back of your hand, and many aquariums are built in one-way configurations these days, but do you see lots of visitors standing around confused, or pouring over maps?  Are there directional signs to help people find where they need to go?  Along those lines... is the zoo safe?  Falling and tripping hazards and other safety hazards can't just ruin a day... they can be a huge financial liability for the institution.

Are their places to rest - benches, picnic tables, even low walls - ideally out of the sun, in the shade?    Bonus points if they are actually pleasant places to sit... so, not next to the dumpster.  At your concessions area, are there enough comfortable places for people to sit and eat?

What about bathrooms?  You better hope those are adequate, because if they aren't, you're kind of stuck with what you've got, barring a major, expensive addition.  Are there enough?  Are they located around the zoo in places where you are never too far from them?  Are they reasonably cleaned and well-stocked (as Mr. Kingsbury learned to his dismay in Carl Hiaasen's book)?

Are the grounds attractive?  Landscaping, sculptures, fountains, planted areas?   Are their play features for kids?  Places to take photo ops and selfies that will be memorable souvenirs of the day out?

For people who are extremely committed to the animals, as many keepers are, such things can seem like a distraction, something not worth their notice.  That couldn't be further from the truth.  We're only able to reach a person (whether its a zoo visitor we want to educate about climate change or a Congolese villager that might be tempted to participate in the bushmeat trade) on a higher level if their basic needs are met - comfort, safety, rest, hunger, thirst.  If you want visitors to learn, to appreciate the animals, and to be receptive to making a difference, you need to first make sure they're in a headspace where they are ready  to listen.

So first things first, make sure that they are ready to have a nice day.

Species Fact Profile: Pink Pigeon (Nesoenas mayeri)

                                                                    Pink Pigeon

Nesoenas mayeri (Prevost, 1843)

Range: Mauritius (and nearby Isle aux Aigrettes)

Habitat:  Upland evergreen forest, coastal forest

Diet: Buds, flowers, leaves, shoots, fruits, seeds  

Social Grouping: Pairs, Small Flocks.  Slightly territorial when nesting.

Reproduction: Breed year round, but with a peak in August and September.  Courtship consists of male bowing to female.  Monogamous, often for life.  Nest in a flimsy stick platform.  Two white eggs incubated for two weeks, male sitting during the day, female at night.  May lay several times a year.  Chicks fed crop milk for first week.  Fledge at about 2-4 weeks, independent shortly after

Lifespan: 10-15 Years (males live longer than females)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Vulnerable

•       Body length 36-38 centimeters.  Weigh 350 grams
•       Pale pink head, growing more robust on the shoulders and underside, with dark brown wings and a rust0colored tail.  The beak and feet are a brighter pink.  The dark brown eyes are ringed with red
•       Threats include habitat loss and degradation (in part caused by the spread of non-native plants, such as guava and privet), as well as competition and disease from introduced pigeons.  Most significant threat are introduced mammalian predators, such as macaques, mongooses, rats, and domestic cats (evolved in absence of mammalian predators)
•       Wild population had dropped to as low as 10 birds in 1991.  Thanks to captive breeding and reintroduction, there are now over 400 birds in the wild, supplemented by a sizeable captive population.  Downlisted from IUCN Critically Endangered to Endangered to Vulnerable in 2018.  Conservationists put out supplemental feeding stations to help birds
•       Only pigeon species in the Mascarene islands which has not gone extinct (most famous extinct pigeon is the dodo)

The Fragile Giants

Watching the video of the San Diego giraffe calf taking a stroll with its new leg-braces was adorable.  And terrifying.  Actually, I'm kinda leaning towards terrifying.  I find it nerve-wracking enough watching a normal giraffe take a walk.  One with leg braces on?  No, thank you.  I'm very happy that the calf is doing well.  I'm even happier that its welfare is someone else's responsibility.

Giraffes are beautiful, unique animals, and they have a certain kind of grace... one that seems limited to flat, dry, solid ground.  Seriously, I've worked at zoos that won't let their giraffes out after a light rain until the ground has had a chance to firm up and dry off.    Those long, spindly legs, while capable of delivering a kick that can kill a lion, at times seem to have minds of their own and incapable of cooperating for the basic task of keeping the damn animal upright.  A giraffe with a broken leg is quite a major medical problem.

And that's just dealing with the broken leg.  If you want to do anything that involves anesthesia, you could be looking at quite the problem.  The long neck with the seeming miles of blood vessels makes giraffes some of the more challenging animals to manage medically.  Medicate them?  Easier said than done.  Your best hope is to make sure that your animal stays healthy enough that you never need to put it under any chemical restraint - or at least as little as possible.  This is a species where an ounce of prevention isn't worth a pound of cure.  It's more like a ton.

Image Credit: Denver Post

The zoo solution to this problem has been the giraffe restraint device.  It's essentially a metal adjustable chute which encloses the animal, fitting it snuggly, and allowing keepers to draw blood, give hoof trims, whatever needs to be done, without the risk of the animal flailing around and hurting itself, or needing chemical immobilization.  

All you need to do is convince the animal to go into the device...  but that's an entirely separate set of habituation challenges.

Brace Yourself... for a Cute Video

As a species, we are perhaps most remarkable for our capacity for innovation and experimentation.  It's what took us from being another savannah primate to the dominant species on our planet.  Unfortunately, we usually express that innovation by either coming up with new ways to brutalize each other or to exploit each other.  Sometimes, it's nice to have a wholesome reminder of what our capacity for invention can accomplish when we decide to put it towards something good.

This giraffe calf at San Diego had leg malformities which were preventing it from walking.  Instead of giving up on it, the staff worked to develop these leg braces and the results... well, they speak for themselves.

Zoo Review: Minnesota Zoo, Part II

Continuing with the Minnesota Zoo...

As befits a zoo at such a northern latitude, a large portion of the Minnesota Zoo is indoors.  The indoor spaces are taken up with three main areas, though they are all accessible as one building.

The first, and perhaps the weakest of the three, is the aquarium, Discovery Bay.  It’s the smallest of the main indoor areas, and essentially tries to hit all of the aquarium highlights in a small space.   There is a sand tiger shark and sea turtle exhibit, a few small aquarium tanks with various fish, and, the highlight, the marine mammal tank.  When Minnesota Zoo opened, this was home to a pair of beluga whales, long since gone.  A few years back, the exhibit attracted special attention among the zoo community when Minnesota became the only facility outside of Hawaii to display endangered Hawaiian monk seals.  Today, only one aged member of that group remains – the plan had been for Minnesota to serve as a holding facility for non-releasable animals, but it turns out that there really aren’t many in need of placement – so I have no idea what will happen to this space when that last seal passes – I would suspect it would be given over to another, more commonly kept species, such as harbor seal or gray seal… so, if you really want to see a Hawaiian monk seal, better get going sooner than later.

One of the more unusual exhibits at the Zoo is Minnesota Trail, which visitors access after passing through a small cabin that houses a small number of reptiles and amphibians, as well as a nocturnal exhibit for skunks.  Minnesota’s wildlife is well-adapted for cold weather for much of the year; many people aren’t.  In an interesting twist, visitors roam this trail completely enclosed in a hallway, facing out at outdoor exhibits of a variety of animals on either side.  Included here are beavers and North American river otters, both with underwater viewing (along with fish of the Great Lakes), great horned owls, bald eagles, and North American porcupines.  Carnivores really dominate the gallery, however.  There are gray wolves, coyotes, wolverine, fishers, puma, and Canada lynx.  A final habitat offers a series of great views (including a peek inside a den) for American black bears in one of the best habitats that I’ve ever seen for that species – plenty of room, natural vegetation, climbing and digging opportunities.  The bear and wolf exhibits have small cabins, similar to those seen on Northern Trail, that serve as specialized educational centers for those species, with lots of signage and hands-on educational opportunities.  If Minnesota Trail has a weakness, it’s that, like many zoo native exhibits, it really overlooks the smaller residents.  I wish there had been an aviary of Minnesota birds (which I’m told there used to be), more reptiles and amphibians (I know, it’s not like there are many there), and more of the smaller mammals.  I’d heard that the trail used to have a really cool least weasel exhibit.  I’d have loved to have seen that.

When winter comes, what Minnesotan wouldn’t dream of being somewhere warm?  Tropics Trail is the Zoo’s solution to that challenge.  Originally exclusively Southeast Asian in theme, the 1.5 acre building is now divided into galleries for Malagasy, Africa, Asian, and American animals.  Species found along the winding, well-planted trail include DeBrazza’s monkeys (cohabbing with red river hogs), Komodo dragon, Rhinoceros hornbill, fruit bats, African dwarf crocodile, Malayan tapir, and small-clawed otter (yep – this zoo has three otter species).  In one of the exhibit highlights, white-cheeked gibbons swing about an island habitat, while the surrounding lagoon is populated by a flock of lesser flamingos and a variety of Asian waterfowl.  I was disappointed by the limited view of an aviary I saw through heavy-mesh… until I eventually followed the path into it later and found myself surrounded with a wide assortment of beautiful birds.  

Similarly, I found myself peering down at an Indo-Pacific reef tank, home to zebra sharks, Hawksbill sea turtle, and more, before entering an underwater gallery that provided beautiful views of the display, which I spent some time watching (and found much more enjoyable than Discovery Bay.  I enjoyed the underwater view, but I also liked the aesthetic of having a natural view of the top of the tank (usually when you get a tank-top view in an aquarium, it's a very artificial environment).  It sort of created a vibe of walking through the forest, suddenly coming to the end of the land and looking out over a clear tropical sea.

There were parts of Tropics Trail which felt like animals were being warehoused, or that an exhibit was empty and the Zoo had just looked for something to put there – urial (mountain sheep from the Caucuses) seemed somewhat out of place here, for example.  Your ability to enjoy this gallery will also be influenced by your feelings about large animals kept inside year-round… though I can understand why Minnesota might be reluctant to build a tapir exhibit that only gets used a few months of the year.  I enjoyed it, anyway, though a few parts, like the nocturnal gallery, seemed a little dated.  I went through three times, and each time felt like I saw something new.

The main entry building also features two of the Zoo’s newest exhibits, African penguins (indoors) and Japanese macaques (outdoors, but visible from indoors).  I really liked the macaque exhibit.  The penguin exhibit… kind of meh, especially if you’ve seen bigger penguin colonies in other zoos with more space and more birds.  Given the choice, I’d have replaced the penguins with puffins, both to better use the height of the exhibit and to have smaller birds in the enclosure.  But hey, to each their own.

Minnesota Zoo is no conventional zoo – at no other zoo do members wait with excitement for the first snowfall of the winter so they can come to see their favorites frolicking in the snow.  It complements the Como Zoo, with its more conventional collection, nicely, while still striking a balance between popular zoo animals and unusual ones, many of which would not do as well at more southerly zoos (even Minnesota Zoo is having troubles with climate change – the decision had recently been made to phase out their last muskox, a species I’d really hoped to see, due to increasingly warmer Minnesota summers). 

Future plans call for the expansion of the Northern Trail to add more Himalayan species, such as snow leopards, red pandas, and pheasants (I was surprised by the lack of birds on that trail – cranes, waterfowl, pheasants).  Plans also call for turning the old monorail tracks into an elevated hiking trail.

A visit to the Twin Cities would be greatly improved by a visit to both of the area’s zoos.

Zoo Review: Minnesota Zoo, Part I

In the 1960s, civic leaders in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul felt that St. Paul’s Como Zoo was too small to meet the demands of their community.  Plans were made for a larger, more expansive facility to be located on the outskirts of the cities.  The result was the Minnesota Zoo, one of two state-owned zoos in the country (the other being the North Carolina Zoo).  Located in Apple Valley, just outside the Twin Cities, it is one of the newer major zoos in the US. 

It is also one of the more unique facilities, lacking many of the charismatic mega-fauna (especially of the African persuasion) that most people think of when they phrase “zoo animals” is brought to mind.  Instead, it could almost be thought of as two zoos.  One features animals of North America and northern Eurasia, housed in paddocks so vast that, until recently, a monorail was considered the best way to see them.  The second is essentially one enormous building that features an aquarium, rainforest, and an unusual indoor-visitor, outdoor-animal trek through several species of native wildlife.

Minnesota also plays a special role in the history of zoos as the birth place of the Species Survival Plan.  Sure, zoo-based breeding programs for endangered species had existed for decades earlier; in the US, you could say the William T. Hornaday’s efforts to save the American bison at the National Zoo and Bronx Zoo were the prototype of the SSP.   It was under the guidance and leadership of Dr. Ulysses Seal of the Minnesota Zoo that the scientific, genetically-managed breeding programs were officially developed, with the first being for the Amur (or Siberian) tiger, a species which Minnesota Zoo still works with today.   Keepers, curators, vets, and especially registrars may also remember Dr. Seal as the founder of the International Species Information System (“ISIS,” today rebranded as Species360), which operates ZIMS, the recordkeeping software used by most zoos and aquariums.

The majority of the landscape at the Minnesota Zoo is taken up by the Northern Trail, a long, meandering pathway through the habitats of the north.  Part of this trial is one of the Zoo’s more  unusual exhibits, Russia’s Grizzly Coast, which highlights the wildlife of northeastern Russia.  The brown bears here are actually American grizzlies, a subspecies stand-in for Russia’s brown bears, though I doubt many visitors will mind the switch.  Also featured here are wild boar (a species that is very seldom seen in US zoos today, which is somewhat surprising considering its vast range and long history with humans) and Amur leopards, both seen from opposite sides of a viewing cabin.  Sea otters may well be the visitor favorite, with a small amphitheater providing underwater viewing.  The most impressive habitat, however, is for the Zoo’s famous Amur tigers.  It’s vast and sprawling, seen from a pavilion towards the middle that guests reach from a boardwalk.  In many ways it’s a very simple exhibit, with little gimmickry or fancy features.  It’s essentially a large tract of northern forest, very comparable to that of East Asia, fenced in.  In this, it works so, so much better than many tiger exhibits I’ve seen which I also feel like must have cost so much more to build.

The trail meanders past exhibits of a variety of Asian and American ungulates (including a few species which are found on both continents).  The Asian species are takin, Bactrian camel, and Przewalski’s wild horse.  The Americans represented are moose, caribou, pronghorn, and genetically-pure American bison (the bison seen in many US zoos have some cattle blood in them).  Black-tailed prairie dogs and trumpeter swans can also be found here.  The ungulate exhibits are quite spacious, to the point that I’d wished that I’d brought binoculars with me to get a better view of some of the animals.  I was able to see every species, though some not as well as I would have liked, and I found the views of them wandering across their paddocks stunning.  An additional yard houses dhole, rarely-seen wild dogs from Asia, visible from either across a watery moat or through the windows of a viewing cabin.  A final, second habitat for Amur tigers, this one fronted with an enormous stone sculpture, rounds out the Northern Trail.  Looming over much of the trail, crossing overhead, are the old monorail tracks, now unused.

A farmyard area and a seasonal, temporary exhibit space (populated periodically by kangaroos, llamas, and other traveling exhibits) can also be found outdoors.

Tomorrow, we’ll visit the indoor exhibits of the Minnesota Zoo.

Minnesota Zoo

Fanaloka the First

If you get a bunch of zoo aficionados together, it doesn't take too long for them to start grumbling about the good old days.  Sure, a lot of things were not so good in those days.  Enclosures weren't as great, nutritional and veterinary knowledge wasn't as advanced, there wasn't as much of an emphasis on animal welfare... but the animals!  You saw such a greater diversity and number of species, so many more than you see today.

Today, we continue to see some species winking out, as the last remaining individuals of uncommonly-kept species pass away.  I spend what little time and money I have for travel these days trying to see them before they go.  Sometimes I wind up with incredible memories of animals that I very well will likely never see again.  Sometimes, I just miss them.

On the other side of the coin, there are some species which were much, much less common in zoos when I was younger than they are now.  These are animals that we've gradually cracked the husbandry challenges for, gotten them breeding reliably, and now there numbers are on the rise.  Giant otters were once an incredible rarity in zoos.  Now, I've seen them in a half-dozen institutions, with more facilities building exhibits for them as we speak.

And then, every once in a while, something like this happens.  A very rare, poorly known, little seen creature is imported... and then it breeds.  For the first time ever, a baby fanaloka, a Malagasy carnivore related to the fossa (another species that was once very rare in zoos and is now becoming more common) has been born in the United States.  I'm not saying that these guys are about to become common, but it is a major event, one which I was delighted to read about.  I hope to see the animals in person when I get the chance. 

Congratulations to the Nashville Zoo!

Risky Rescues

Watching the video of a Guatemalan zookeeper diving into the moat to rescue a drowning antelope, I wasn't too worried.  I'd seen the video posted on one of those sappy, motivational/inspirational Facebook pages, so I had a pretty good idea in how it was going to turn out, and that everyone would be okay.  If this had been live, and I'd been standing there watching the action unfold with no idea on how it would end, I'd be feeling very differently.

When an animal is in danger, especially in a life-or-death situation, there is an immediate impulse to help.  Zookeepers, the humans who are closest to those animals, are obviously the ones who feel that urge most keenly.  The problem is that when you go to the aid of an animal in danger, you aren't just dealing with whatever is endangering the animal itself - a severe weather event, a fire, whatever.  You also have to  deal with the animal itself.  And that can real up the ante on the danger.

We should probably be clear on this point - the animal does not know and does not understand that you are trying to save their life.  In the wild, this is the exact sort of situation in which a predator would move in for the kill to take advantage of a trapped or weakened animal.  That's literally the story of the La Brea Tar Pits outside of Los Angeles and why there are so many predator bones found there.  Prey animals would get themselves stuck in the muck... and then wolves, saber-toothed cats, and other carnivores would rush in for the easy kill, only to get stuck themselves.

A blackbuck isn't particularly big, even as antelope go.  It does, however, have very powerful, sharp little hooves which would not feel great connecting with the softer spots of your anatomy... and a terrified, drowning blackbuck is going to kick and flail for all its worth.  This particular individual was a male, meaning it has extra accessories.  Those corkscrew horns, thrashing around as the animal swings its head trying to get air, could easily go into an eye - or through it, into the brain.  This is all while you're trying to lift that heaving, struggling sack of wet fur and muscle out of moat, trying not to drown yourself.  

Oh, and that's not counting the fact that there is an elephant standing right there... and who knows for sure how she's going to react to all of this as it unfolds.

Situations like this are always tricky.  On one hand, human lives are generally regarded as trumping animal lives, though it's certainly not a position everyone would take.  In emergency training situations, we are told that the first step is to make sure that we don't become additional victims, complicating the rescue effort.  That said, it's almost impossible to rescue an animal without some risk to oneself - a bite, a scratch, a kick, a headbutt.  That just comes with the job.  Zookeepers have been seriously hurt, even killed, caring for their animals, either from the animals themselves or from the circumstances, such as a hurricane... or, say, the invasion of your country by your next-door neighbor.

Each situation is different - the scenario, the risks, the keepers, and the animals.  In many cases, there is no unarguable right answer.  I'm just glad that this case turned out for the best.

The Great Blackbuck Rescue

In a cool new video shared on YouTube, a zookeeper in Guatemala dives into a water-filled moat to rescue a blackbuck antelope.  The plot-twist?  He was notified of the danger not by another keeper, or a visitor... but by an Asian elephant.  Elephants are one of those animals that it's always easy to anthropomorphize, but it's hard to watch this and not get a sense of the intelligence and empathy that elephants are capable of.

 

Satire: Noah's Buffet

Even with the best of planning, mixed-species cohabitations have their limits..

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Bird Names for Birds?

In 1741, the German naturalist Georg Wilhelm Steller, part of a Russian expedition led by Vitus Bering to explore Alaska, became one of the first Europeans to set foot in the region.  His time in the islands of the sea that now bears Bering's name was brief, but from a scientific perspective, quite fruitful.  He described several species that were new to European science, including a jay, an eider, a sea eagle, and a sea lion, as well as a giant, manatee-like creature, which is now extinct.   All of these creatures now bear his name - Steller's sea eagle, Steller's eider, Steller's sea cow, and so on.

(He is also the namesake of a supposed marine primate, the Steller's sea ape, which had never been seen before and had never been seen since, and quite possibly does not exist).

A very large number of animals are named after people.  Sometimes it's the person who discovered them ("discovered" always being translated as "first European to scientifically describe them - in almost all cases, the indigenous people were well aware first).  Or, they might be named to honor the collectors, or the patron of the collector, or someone that the person bestowing the name particular admired.  Usually it's another scientist, but not always - Adelie penguin, for example, is named after Adele Dumont d'Urville, the wife of French explorer Jules Dumont d'Urville, who first discovered the species.

Georg Steller wasn't a bad guy - his sympathies for the oppressed native peoples of the region he explored actually got him into trouble with the Russian imperial authorities, indirectly leading to his death as he was dragged across Russia for hearings.  Some of the folks who have birds or other animals named after them are more morally questionable.  Some have imperial overtones.  Some were slave-dealers, or fought to uphold slavery in the Confederacy.  Some had pretty bad views of the subjects of race and human rights.  Still, their names are enshrined in the halls of Ornithology.

Rethinking Bird Names

There's a movement to change that.  #birdnamesforbirds seeks to rename bird species that are named after humans - not just "bad" guys (in most terms "badness" is subjective - though Adolf Hitler does have a Slovenian cave beetle named after him).  The arguments go beyond the question of who is or is not worthy of being honored with a species name.  It's also suggested that naming animals after people is kind of useless - wouldn't it be better, the argument goes, to give names that are more descriptive?  Instead, animals could be given names that describe their habitat, or their geographic range, or a noteworthy physical characteristic.  In some cases, common names are already changing.  The critically endangered bird that was once widely known as Edwards's pheasant is now increasingly being called the Vietnam pheasant in recognition of the fact that it is only found in Vietnam.  Such a name change can help boost pride and awareness of the species (in this case, as conservationists push to make the pheasant Vietnam's national bird).  Labelling the bird "Edwards's" doesn't tell you much about it.

Of course, these name changes only apply to common names, and many species have more than one common name, of varying usage.  These "human bird names" will probably be with us forever in some form or another, though it is possible that alternative names may begin to replace them.  Latin names (many of which also are used to honor humans) are almost impossible to change and will likely remain the same.  Just ask Anophtalamus hitleri.

Bad Moms

Happy Belated Mother's Day!

Yesterday, your local zoo or aquarium could probably be reliably counted on to have put out some social media content about the mothers and offspring at their zoo.  Not that this is limited to Mother's Day, of course.  Baby animal content is some of the most popular material that you can put out there - the public loves it.  I love it, too.  Often, I scroll through the comments to see how folks are reacting.

Most of the reactions are what you'd expect - variations of the phrases "Aww" and "How cute," interspersed with a few snarky anti-zoo comments ("How sad, it'll never be free, blah, blah").  There is one other genre of comments that I see now and then, one that gets my goat.  They feature commenters using the animals as a metaphor to shame other people - especially moms.  "Look, she cares so much for her baby, it's too bad that so many human mothers don't care about their children."  "She's a better mom than a lot of people."  Especially in the aftermath of the leaked Supreme Court ruling about Roe v. Wade, it's not unusual to see self-righteous commenters compare the loving animal mothers to people who would get an abortion (and not to the human's advantage).

So, just taking a step back here...  I love animals.  Always have.  They've been my driving passion in life.  I love them... but I don't romanticize them.  So excuse me for a second while I call bullcrap.

Depending on how we define it, some animals are "great mothers."  Apart from humans, no mother spends longer nurturing her offspring than an orangutan does.  A cheetah will square off against lions, hyenas, and other larger, more powerful predators to defend her young.  A lapwing will feign injury to try to lure a predator away from her nest.   A crocodile will tenderly help its young escape from their eggshells, then watch over them for months.  A caecilian literally lets her young eat parts of her body to nourish them.

And, on the other end of the spectrum, kangaroos will lob joeys at predators as a diversion as they flee for their lives.  A mother eagle will casually watch as one chick bullies its slightly younger sibling to death.  Primates will browbeat subordinate females in the troop -including their own daughters - into reproductive inactivity, suppressing their hormones.  In many mammals, a mother that feels too stressed out during pregnancy will abort; if she's already given birth, she might abandon or eat her babies.  It's a lost cause in her mind, so might as well reclaim some nutrients.  And, of course, a tremendous number of females of a wide variety of species give birth, and then play no additional role.  So long, take care, don't bother sending a card for mother's day.

The thing is... none of these behaviors, the "good" or the "bad," are moral values.  Only humans possess those.  A male and female goose will raise their clutch together tenderly, whereas a cuckoo drops its eggs off than bolts - both are perfectly valid, natural strategies for survival.  Even in animals that we think of as "good" moms, there are moments which can be hard to watch.  I remember watching a female bear raise her cub.  She was (mostly) a good, attentive mom... but once that cub hit about a year old or so, it was like a switch was flipped in her head.  She became aggressive towards her cub, chasing her off if she got too close, swatting her if she tried nursing, and sometimes seeming to go out of her way to pick a fight.  It was a little hard to watch, the cub was confused and scared - the main source of comfort and nourishment in her life had suddenly turned hostile.  Still, the mother was just following natural behavior.  Biologically, she was ready to breed again, and couldn't raise a new cub while still looking after an older one.  In the wild or in the zoo, it was time to part ways.

I bring this all up, mostly, just to emphasize that animals can engage in plenty of maternal behavior which we might call questionable... but that's okay.  They're here on this planet to survive - not to serve as a moral lesson for us (it's true - it's really not all about us).  And they certainly aren't here to serve as some sort of paragon that we can use to shame other mothers for not being "good enough."

So, this Mother's Day week, if you're feeling stressed or judged, don't.  If you haven't eaten your kids, you're probably doing just fine.

Capy Weekend

 Have a Capy Weekend!

Species Fact Profile: Roseate Spoonbill (Platalea ajaja)

Roseate Spoonbill                                                              

Platalea ajaja (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range: Southeastern United States, Central America, the Caribbean, South America south to Argentina.  Occasionally shows up in the southwestern United States as a vagrant

Habitat: Mangrove swamps, mudflats, wetlands.  Nest and roost in trees and shrubs along the water’s edge

Diet: Small Fish, Amphibians, Aquatic Invertebrates.  Consume some aquatic plants, but mostly as a byproduct of sifting for animal prey  

Social Grouping: Large, mixed-species flocks and nesting colonies

Reproduction: Seasonally monogamous, repairing each breeding season.  After performing courtship displays (presenting each other sticks, crossing and clasping bills), both sexes cooperate to build a nest, with the male doing most of the material collection and the female doing most of the construction.  It is a large, well-constructed bowl of sticks in a tree about 3 meters up, lined with leaves and grass. 1-5 (usually 2-3) white eggs spotted with brown are incubated by both parents for about 3 weeks, then fed by both parents on regurgitated fish.  Chicks fledge at 4-5 weeks, but usually hang around the nest until they are about 8 weeks old and proficient at flying, at which point they are independent.  Sexually mature at 1-2, but usually don’t start breeding until 3-4 years old for males, 4-5 years old for females

Lifespan: 10 Years (Wild), 30 Years (Zoo)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

•           Body length 71-86 centimeters, wingspan 120-130 centimeters, weigh 1200-1800 grams.  Males slightly larger than females
•       Males and females look alike.  The upper beck and back are white.  The wings and underparts are a light pink, turning into a deep red towards the tail and with a bright red patch on the shoulders.  The legs are eyes are red, while the beak and feet are yellow-green.  The head is only partially feathered.  Juveniles are paler (and have a fully-feathered head), achieving adult coloration at about 3 years old
•       The namesake bill is long and flat (slightly longer in the males), rounder at the end, resembling a spoon.  The nostrils are located towards the top of the beak, allowing the bird to breathe while it is sifting for food.  It is specialized for scooping prey out of the water.    Birds feed mainly by touch, as the water that they forage in tends to be murky.  The open bill is pointed underwater and swung back and forth in large arcs
•         Like flamingos, much of the bird’s pink color comes from the carotenoids in the crustaceans and algae upon which it feeds.  Birds kept in zoos can obtain the pink color by being fed commercial flamingo diet
•      Voice is described as a low barking sound
• ·       Nestlings are sometimes predated by eagles, turkey vultures, and raccoons
•         Tropical populations are sedentary.  Subtropical ones may migrate slightly, usually in response to rainfall patterns and the availability of food (i.e., may migrate from Florida to Cuba)
•          Roseate spoonbills feature in the plot of the James Bond novel Dr. No; the namesake villain’s acquisition and destruction of a spoonbill nesting area sets off a chain of events that brings Bond into a conflict with him.  The author of the book, Ian Fleming, was an ornithologist who wrote about the species in his book Birds of the West Indies
•          Historically the species was hunted heavily for its feathers and nearly extirpated from the United States, but the practice has largely ended and the birds are on the rebound, recolonizing the US in the 20^th century.  Today the most significant threat is loss of habitat.  In areas with loss of trees they will nest closer to the ground, which makes nests more vulnerable to predators

The Best Laid Plans

Yesterday morning was, I'm sure, a sickening one for the bird keepers at the National Zoo.  Cleaning up the carnage of the fox attack the night before, I'm sure that many people were full of self doubt and recriminations.  Was there something that they could have done?  Something that they could have checked?  Some minor alteration that they could have made that would have prevented the disaster?  It would be a very unusual keeper who found themselves in such a position and did not catch themselves wondering - is it my fault?

I know.  I've done it a hundred times before.  If only I'd taken that early warning symptom a little more seriously, if only I'd noticed that subtle aggression between two animals before it exploded into open warfare, it only I'd noticed someone wasn't eating quite as well as they'd used to.  

In this case, if I'd only done a little something extra to that weak spot in the fence, or something along those lines.

The truth is - and I say this sincerely, not flippantly - sometimes... bad things happen.  And when they do, the consequences can be very bad.  Caring for animals involves an enormous amount of responsibility, and when things don't go right, there can be consequences for people and for animals.  Amid all of this, all of this care and attention to detail, there is always a risk of human error... but even more importantly, there is also always the risk of bad luck.  Sometimes, you are just unlucky.

Hindsight is 20/20, and it's a very rare disaster - God himself personally dropping an asteroid on one of your animals, for example - that, in retrospect, is 100% up to chance.  Whenever something bad happens, our first reaction shouldn't be to point fingers and decide who is to blame.  It should be to take the new information we've learned from the freshest disaster and to see what lessons we can learn from it, lessons that we can apply back to our care protocols to make sure that such things don't happen again.  

From the News: Wild Fox Kills 25 Flamingos and a Duck at the National Zoo

 Wild Fox Kills 25 Flamingos and a Duck at the National Zoo

In what I'm sure was a heartbreaking morning for the Bird House staff, keepers at the National Zoo came to work today to discover that over two dozen American flamingos and a northern pintail had been attacked and killed by a wild fox, with several other birds injured.  Such attacks happen from time to time at zoos, as keepers engage in constant arms races against wily native predators such as foxes, hawks, owls, raccoons, and snakes, trying to safeguard the homes of the animals.  From the article, it seems that this particular habitat had been repaired and inspected regularly; this was not the result of negligence or failure to do one's duty.  Sometimes, there's just a bit of bad luck - the right fox comes up at the right part of the fence under the right conditions - and tragedy unfolds.

Twenty-five flamingos is obviously much more than any fox could eat; such "killing sprees" (the origin of the saying, "a fox in the hen house") are the result of a predator suddenly finding itself faced with a huge number of potential prey, with the predation instinct being stimulated over and over again.  It's not killing for fun - foxes aren't "evil," nor do they have that concept.  It's just regrettably one of those things that happens, as many frustrated farmers could tell you.

Condolences to the staff of the Zoo as they tend to the remnants of their flock, repair the exhibit, and move forward from this mess.  It's been fifty years since the Zoo has experienced such a loss.  I suspect they'll be remembering that night with a shudder fifty years later.

Angling for a Favor

A few times a week, I see other zookeepers post things on Facebook to the affect of "Hi!  My friend/family and are going to be visiting XXX zoo/aquarium later this week.  Is there anything we shouldn't miss?  Or, does anyone want to meet up?"

In addition to the stated purpose, this translates, roughly, to the following: "Hi!  Anyone at XXX zoo/aquarium able to hook me up with some free tickets?  Also, if you were to ask if I wanted to go behind-the-scenes and meet that one animal I've always been dying to see up close, that would make my day.  Thanks!"

I've been on the asking and giving end of such favors before... honestly, mostly on the asking.

I don't know how much other professions are susceptible to this -  do doctors like to visit other hospitals on their vacations?  I would think not... - but keepers and aquarists typically love to visit other facilities.  There's a lot of joy that comes from meeting other animals and other animal care professionals and getting to see things we might not otherwise see.  Some keepers want to see their own counterparts at other zoos - a bear keeper to the bears, an ape keeper to the apes - both to network and to get inspiration for their own work back home.  Sometimes you go and visit an individual animal that you knew and cared for at one zoo at their new home, which is always fun.  Other keepers take joy in seeing things that are a world apart from what they work with at home - a rhino keeper meeting sharks, a bird keeper meeting giraffes.

Also, as an embarrassing aside, we tend not to make a ton of money, and our work schedules can sometimes make it problematic to hang out with friends and family on their timelines (like, weekends... when normal people spend time together).  Giving the secret handshake at the door and sweeping our friends behind the scenes at a place they've never been, giving them a really cool encounter with an animal, is one of the perks of the job that we can savor.  Afterwards, I usually send something as a thank you, be it a box of cookies, an animal painting, or whatever else I have that I think my tour guide might appreciate.

I've been the recipient of many such tours and favors in the past - sometimes from friends, sometimes from keepers I'd never met or spoken to before, but who heard I was looking for a sneak-peek at such and such an animal and agreed to help.  In return, I've always tried to honor any requests for help that come my way.  Even if it's not something I can directly help them with, I'll put them in touch with a coworker who can.  It's the sort of pay-it-forward of favors that makes it all work out.